The Captive

by Виктория Холт

  That’s about pirates. “

  Her interest was aroused. There was a picture on the frontispiece of Long John Silver with his parrot on his shoulder.

  She said: “In that other book … that was his name … you know, the murderer.”

  “We don’t know that he was,” I said, and stopped myself abruptly, for she was looking at me in surprise. I should have to go carefully.

  “We shall then do history, geography and arithmetic.”

  She was scowling.

  “We’ll see how they fit in,” I said firmly.

  The morning passed tolerably well. I discovered that she could read fairly fluently and I was pleased to discover that she had a definite taste for literature. The personalities of history interested her but she shut her mind to dates. There was a revolving globe in the cupboard and we had an interesting time discovering places on it. I showed her where I had been shipwrecked. The story intrigued her, and we finished off the morning by reading a chapter of Treasure Island; she was absorbed by the book from the first page.

  I was amazed at my success.

  I had decided that we should work until midday. Then she could follow her own pursuits if she wished until three o’clock when we might walk in the gardens or in the surrounding country and learn something about plant life, or take a walk. We could resume lessons at four and work until five. That was our scholastic day.

  In the afternoon she showed no wish to be on her own and offered to show me the surrounding country. I was rather pleased that she sought my company and seemed to retain her interest in me.

  She talked about Treasure Island and told me what she thought would happen. She wanted to hear about my shipwreck. I began to think that it was this which had made her ready to accept me . perhaps briefly as had not been the case with the other governesses.

  She took me to the top of the cliffs and we sat there for a while, watching the sea.

  “We have rough seas here,” she said.

  “There used to be wreckers along these coasts. They had lights and they lured the ships on to the rocks, pretending that it was the harbour. Then they stole the cargo.

  I’d like to have been a wrecker. “

  “Why do you want to be evil?”

  “Being good is dull.”

  “It’s better in the long run.”

  “I like short runs.”

  I laughed at her and she laughed with me.

  She said suddenly: “Look at those rocks down there. A man was drowned down there not very long ago.”

  “Did you know him?”

  She was silent for a moment. Then she said: “He was a stranger here.

  He came from London. He’s buried in St. Morwenna’s churchyard. I’ll show you his grave. Would you like to see it? “

  “Well, I suppose it is hardly one of the local beauty spots.”

  She laughed again.

  “He was drunk,” she said.

  “He fell over the cliffs and right down on to the rocks.”

  “He must have been very drunk.”

  “Oh, he was. There was a fuss about it. They didn’t know who he was for a long time.”

  “How you love the morbid!”

  “What’s that?”

  “Unpleasant … gruesome.”

  “I like gruesome things.”

  “It’s not the wisest of preoccupations.”

  She looked at me and laughed again.

  “You are funny,” she said.

  Looking back over that day when I retired to my room that night, I could say it had been unexpectedly satisfactory. I had some hope however flimsy of coming to an understanding with Kate.

  A few days passed. To my secret delight, I was discovering that my somewhat unorthodox methods of teaching were more successful with a pupil like Kate than more conventional ones might have been. We were reading together a great deal. In fact, I held those reading sessions as a sort of bribe for good conduct during the less attractive projects. She could have read by herself but she preferred that we do it together.

  She liked to share her enjoyment, which was a sign in her favour, I thought; moreover, she liked to talk about what we had read afterwards; then sometimes she might be held up because she did not know the meaning of a word. She was avid for knowledge, in spite of the fact that she had expressed her contempt for it; and she was completely intrigued by Treasure Island.

  It was too much to expect a complete change in the child merely because our relationship had progressed more favourably than I had dared hope. I think it was on my fourth morning that she did not put in an appearance in the schoolroom.

  I went to her room. She was looking out of the window, obviously expecting me, and I could see she was preparing to enjoy a battle.

  I said: “Why are you not in the schoolroom?”

  “I don’t feel like lessons today,” she replied jauntily.

  “It doesn’t matter how you feel. This is lesson-time.”

  “You can’t make me.”

  “I certainly would not attempt to take you there by force. I shall go to your mother and tell her that you have made up your mind not to learn and there is no point in my being here.”

  It was a bold step. I could not bear the thought of leaving now. Yet I knew I could get nowhere unless I had some authority over her.

  She looked at me defiantly. My heart sank but I hoped I hid my feelings. I had gone too far to turn back.

  “You really mean you’d go?” I saw the fear in her eyes mingling with disbelief. I sensed that she was as uneasy as I was.

  I said firmly: “If you will not come to the schoolroom I have no alternative.”

  She hesitated for a moment.

  “All right,” she said.

  “Go, if you want to.”

  I walked to the door. I must not show my despair. If this was to be the end, what good had I done? But there was no turning back now. I went out. She did not move. I started down the stairs. Then I heard her.

  “Come back, Cranny.”

  I paused and turned to look back at her.

  “All right,” I said.

  “I’ll come.”

  I felt flushed with victory as we made our way to the schoolroom.

  She was in a difficult mood all day. I wondered why. Perhaps she felt she had been good too long and it was not in her nature to be so.

  I found a dead shrew mouse in my bed that night. I carefully wrapped it up in tissue paper and went along to her room.

  “I think this poor little thing belongs to you,” I said.

  She looked aghast.

  “Where did you find it?”

  “Where you put it. In my bed.”

  “I bet you screamed when you found it.”

  “I did not think it frightening or funny. It’s just a rather silly cliche really.”

  I could see her pondering on the word cliche. She loved discovering new words; but she was not in the mood to ask me what it meant.

  I went on: “I wonder how many times some mischievous child has put a shrew mouse in someone’s bed. It’s really rather silly. You do the expected thing, Kate.”

  She was a little downcast. Then she said: “Well … you brought it back, didn’t you? You were going to put it in my bed.”

  “I should have done no such thing. I merely wanted you to know that your silly trick had not had the effect you thought it would. Now, if we are going to have a truce, we should put an end to these childish tricks. It would be more interesting to get on well together. There are many exciting things we could do. We don’t want to waste time having tantrums and playing silly tricks. We can talk …”

  “What about?”

  “About life … people …”

  “Murder?” she put in.

  I thought: Yes, about one. I said: “What we can do is finish Treasure Island.”

  ‘ “Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest,” she sang,”

  “Yo, ho, ho, and a bottle of rum.”

  I smiled.


  “There are lots of books we can read. You haven’t read The Count of Monte Cristo yet. I saw it in the cupboard. It’s about a man who was wrongfully imprisoned and escapes to have his revenge.”

  Her eyes were round with interest.

  “Well,” I went on, ‘if we don’t waste our time in silly ways, we might tackle that. And there are many more. “

  She did not answer, but I felt I had won another battle.

  I said: “What shall we do with this poor little mouse?”

  “I’ll bury it,” she said.

  “That’s right. And all your silly prejudices against governesses with it. Then perhaps we can start to enjoy our lessons.”

  On that note, I left her. I was victorious and triumphant.

  My handling of Kate was the wonder of the household. At last someone had been found who could turn the enfant terrible into a normal child or at least who had found a way to control her.

  Mrs. Ford feted me. She was delighted. She mentioned my name in an awed whisper, as though I were a battle hero covered in military glory. I was quite an important figure in the household.

  It was about a week after my arrival when Lady Perrivale asked me to come to her in the drawing-room.

  She was very gracious.

  “You and Kate seem to be getting along very well,” she began.

  “That is very good. I knew all would be well if only we could get the right person.”

  “I am quite inexperienced in governessing,” I reminded her.

  “Well, that is just the point. These old women have too many rules.

  They are too set in their ways to understand the modern child. “

  “Kate is rather unusual.”

  “Well, of course. But clearly you understand her. Are you completely satisfied with everything? Is there anything … ?”

  “I am satisfied, thank you very much,” I replied.

  Sir Tristan came into the room as though on a cue. It amused me to think he had been called in to add his praise to that of his wife.

  Kate must have plagued them a good deal.

  The thought crossed my mind that it was odd that a man who could murder his brother should be nonplussed by a wayward child. I pulled myself

  up sharply. It was nonsensical to have settled on Sir Tristan as the murderer, just because of his saturnine looks. Though, of course, he had inherited the title, the estates . and Mirabel.

  His shrewd dark eyes were assessing me. I felt guilty. I wondered what he would say if he could read my thoughts.

  “I hear you are managing Kate,” he said, and added, with a little laugh, “Quite a feat. It’s very clever of you. Miss Cranleigh, to do what your predecessors so lamentably failed to.”

  “She’s not an easy child,” I said.

  “We are well aware of that, aren’t we?” he replied, looking at his wife.

  She nodded ruefully.

  “I think she needs a great deal of understanding,” I told them. I was wondering what Kate’s relationship was with these two. She had not given me an inkling. What of her father? What had happened to him? How did she feel about her mother’s engagement to Cosmo, and then, very soon after his death, the marriage to Tristan? These were matters I should like to know about. I believed they might help me solve the mystery.

  “And you seem to be able to supply that.”

  “As I have explained, I have never been a governess before.”

  “You are too young, of course,” he said, smiling at me warmly.

  “And too modest… is she not, my dear?”

  “Far too modest,” added Lady Perrivale.

  “Miss Cranleigh, I hope you will not be bored here.” She looked at her husband.

  “We were going to say that perhaps … now and then … when we have a dinner party . you might care to join us. As a matter of fact, your friends are quite close neighbours of ours.”

  “You mean the Lorimers?”

  “Yes. So sad about the accident. I dare say they would not be in the

  mood for visiting just yet. But perhaps later we might ask them … and then, of course, you must be among the guests.”

  “That would be very pleasant.”

  “We don’t want you to feel… isolated.”

  I was thinking: This is what happens to some governesses when they are short of a guest and want to make up numbers, and if the governess is fairly presentable she is called in to fill the gap. On the other hand, they were clearly very anxious to keep me. How strange it was that I was the only one who had found a way to make this recalcitrant child less objectionable.

  I said: “You are very kind. There is one thing …”

  They were eager to know what.

  “If I could occasionally have a free afternoon. I should like to visit the Lorimers. You see, there are children there. I was with them at the time of the accident. I stayed on a while after the friends with whom I was travelling left.”

  I was amused to see the light of alarm in Lady Perrivale’s eyes.

  Children? Might they be needing a governess? Really, I thought, I shall get a very high opinion of myself . and all because I had for a time found a way of making Kate behave mildly reasonably.

  “Of course,” said Sir Tristan quickly.

  “Certainly you must take the time to visit your friends. How will you travel? It is quite a few miles to Trecorn Manor, is it not? You are a rider, are you?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Well, that’s settled. Ask Mason down at the stables to find a suitable mount for you.”

  “You are most kind. Kate has mentioned riding and I think she would like us to do it together.”

  “Excellent. I believe she is quite good on a horse.”

  “I am sure she is. I look forward to outings with her.”

  It was a most satisfactory interview.

  The next day Kate and I went for a ride. She had a small white horse of whom she was very fond. It pleased me to see the care she lavished on him an indication that there was some capacity for affection in her nature.

  The head groom. Mason, had found a chestnut mare for me. Her name was Goldie, he told me.

  “She’s a good little thing. Treat her right and she’ll treat you right. Good-tempered … easygoing … make a bit of fuss of her .. and she likes a lump of sugar after the ride.

  Give her that and she’ll be your slave. “

  Kate was a good little horsewoman, inclined to show off at first, but when I told her I knew she was aware of how to manage a horse, and in any case she would not have been allowed to go without a groom if she did not, she stopped doing so.

  I was wondering how I could pose tactful questions about her home life, for I knew I had to be very careful. She was extremely observant; and she was watching me as closely as I was watching her.

  She announced that she was going to take me to Bindon Boys.

  “You know,” she said, ‘the old farmhouse where the murder took place.”

  “I remember.”

  “You’ll like that. Cranny. You know how you love any thing about that old murder.”

  I felt uneasy. I had betrayed my interest and she had noticed.

  “It’s an awful old place. People won’t go there after dark … I mean they won’t even go near it. I reckon quite a lot would want to go in daylight… but never alone.”

  “Bricks and mortar can’t hurt anyone.”

  “No. It’s what’s inside. Once it was a real farmhouse. I can remember it before … before that happened …”

  “Can you?”

  “Well, of course I can. I wasn’t all that much of a baby.”

  “And you lived near … when you came from London.”

  “That’s right. The cottage we lived in was close to Bindon Boys. It was the nearest cottage to it. And the sea was just down the slope.

  I’ll show you when we get there. “

  “Is it far?”

  “No, about a mile.”

  “That’s easy.”


  “Come on. I’ll race you.”

  We galloped across a meadow and when we emerged we were very close to the sea. I took deep breaths of the invigorating air. Kate came up close to me.

  “There,” she said.

  “You can see it just down there. That’s the old farmhouse and there, not very far off … Seashell Cottage. Seashell. what a silly name! Someone had done the name on the soil outside the door in seashells. Seashell Cottage … all in shells. I used to pull them up. I took off the Seas and made it Hell Cottage.”

  I laughed.

  “Just what I would expect of you.”

  “Gramps thought it was funny. I tell you what. After you’ve seen the farmhouse I might take you to see Gramps. He’d like to meet you. He likes meeting people.”

  “I shall find it all most interesting, I am sure.”

  “Come on. The farmhouse first.”

  We rode down the slight incline, and there it was. It was in a state of dilapidation. The roof looked as though it were falling in. The heavy door was slightly ajar. The bolt had evidently gone.

  “It looks as if it is on the point of collapse,” I said.

  “Coming in? Or are you scared?”

  “Of course I want to go in.”

  “We’ll leave our horses here.”

  We dismounted near an old mounting-block and tethered the horses. We pushed open the door and stepped straight into what I presumed was a living-room. It was large with two windows, the panes of which were

  cracked. Several floorboards were missing. Threadbare curtains hung at the windows and dusty cobwebs hung from the ceiling.

  “They didn’t touch it … after the murder,” said Kate. This is where it was . in this room. It’s haunted, isn’t it? Can you feel it? “

  I said: “It’s eerie.”

  “Well, that’s because it’s haunted. You’d better keep close to me.”

  I smiled. She was eager not to be too far away from me in this place.

  I was seeing it all clearly: Simon, tying up his horse at probably the same spot where we had tied ours . unsuspecting . coming in and finding Cosmo lying on the floor, the gun beside him. I saw Simon picking up the gun and just at that moment Tristan bursting in. It was too neat.

  “You look funny,” said Kate.

  “I was thinking about it.”

  She nodded.

  “I reckon Simon was waiting for him. And as soon as he came in… bang, bang. It was a good thing Stepper came in, though … and caught him red-handed. He ran away.” She came close to me.